


Keep for me Your Sweetness

by lielabell



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Fluff, Jett Stetson is a Romantic, Kendall is smug, M/M, This fic will give you cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:19:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He makes a lovely picture, his head tossed back against the pillows, hair mussed like he's just had sex (because he has) and jaw sporting just enough stubble to make you want to rub your face against it (which feels marvelous, by the way).  Yes, Kendall looks like something out of Jett's spank bank (because he is, oh god, he is) but, even so, he's not going to get his way this time.  Not when it took Jett months and months of sweet talk to get him to agree in the first place.  They are going out, damn it, to the trendiest restaurant Los Angeles has to offer.  They are going to eat food with pretentious sounding names and drink overpriced drinks and have their picture taken by heaps and heaps of paps.  They are <i>going to</i>.  Because Jett is no one's dirty little secret.  No matter how great the sex may be (holy fuck, the sex is <i>magnificent</i>).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff. Written for Queenitsy who asked for "a double date with Jett/Kendall and Lucy/Camille."

"Why am I doing this again?" Kendall asks, his face pulled into the sort of pout that could only be truly pretty if it were on Jett, but is still somehow attractive on Kendall. 

"Because I deserve nice things, that's why," Jett snaps at him, more annoyed at the fact that he finds Kendall's pout attractive than what the other man said.

Kendall rolls his eyes as he finishes buttoning up his shirt, not at all repentant. "You want nice things? Fine, I'll _buy_ you some. Let's go. Right now. We'll hit the most expensive shop on Rodeo Drive and you can pick out the tackiest thing they've got to offer. How about that?"

"Tempting, but no." Jett debates between a sky blue tie and an avocado green one. The green works best with the matte grey of his shirt, but the blue sets his eyes off better. He chews on his lower lip, trying to decide which would make him look best when pictures from tonight end up splattered all over the internet. 

"The green," Kendall says, crossing the room to wrap his arms around Jett's waist and rest his chin on Jett's shoulder. Jett slides the tie around his neck, then raises an eyebrow at Kendall's reflection in the mirror. "Yeah, definitely the green." Kendall confirms, his voice a bit low and gruff. He turns his head and nips at the underside of Jett's jaw, which sends delicious tingles down Jett's spine.

"Stop it," he chides, moving so that he is free of Kendall's embrace. "We don't have time for any of your nonsense tonight." 

"Come on," Kendall weedles, "please, baby. I'll make it feel so good."

"I bet you would, but I'm so not about to be distracted by you. And, also, what have I told you about calling me that?" Jett makes a face. 

Kendall blinks at him. "What? Baby? I call you that all the time."

"And I tell you all the time _not_ to." Jett sighs. "If you want to talk me out of something, you should try to remember the lecture I gave you on the subject of pet names and how you are strictly forbidden from using them."

Kendall huff out a sigh of his own before throwing himself dramatically down onto the bed that dominates the room. "Fine, no pet names. Whatever. Just," he shakes his head, "can we please not do this? Please? I really don't want to."

Jett has no sympathy at all. "Then you shouldn't have said that you would."

"Jett," Kendall tries again, his hands running down his body to cup himself through his charcoal grey trousers. "Please." 

He makes a lovely picture, his head tossed back against the pillows, hair mussed like he's just had sex (because he has) and jaw sporting just enough stubble to make you want to rub your face against it (which feels marvelous, by the way). Yes, Kendall looks like something out of Jett's spank bank (because he is, oh god, he is) but, even so, he's not going to get his way this time. Not when it took Jett months and months of sweet talk to get him to agree in the first place. They are going out, damn it, to the trendiest restaurant Los Angeles has to offer. They are going to eat food with pretentious sounding names and drink overpriced drinks and have their picture taken by heaps and heaps of paps. They are _going to_. Because Jett is no one's dirty little secret. No matter how great the sex may be (holy fuck, the sex is _magnificent_ ).

"The girls would be hurt if we didn't show," Jett says, because the hell he is going to admit any of that other stuff he's thinking. Kendall's far too full of himself as it is. He doesn't need to know that Jett wants to lick him like a lollipop or any of the thousand other overly sentimental things Jett thinks about him. Not yet, anyway. Not until Kendall shares something overly sentimental of his own first.

“Fine,” Kendall says with a scowl. “Whatever. I’ll go. But I’m not going to enjoy it. And I’m not letting you have your way with me afterwards.”

"Have my way with you?” Jett sniffs as if his mouth isn’t watering at the thought. “What are you, a twelve-year-old girl?”

Kendall pouts a bit at that and Jett in no way finds it adorable. Just like he doesn't find Kendall's kisses to be the sweetest of kisses or his face to be the most precious of faces or his smile to be the best smile in the history of ever. And don't get Jett started on what he doesn't think about Kendall's laugh or the way that Kendall looks while he sleeps, all sprawled out on the bed like an octopus. Because, really. It’s far too soon to be thinking about forever when they've only been _together_ together five months at this point (no, the year and a half of sort-of dating does not count, because honestly, if all you are doing is meeting up at bars to get drunk and then fuck each other, it's _not_ a relationship, it's a series of bad life choices, thank you very much). So yeah. Five months of actual, honest to god dating. Out of the public eye. In quiet, unassuming venues. Under false names. Five months of it. Yeah, Jett's not thinking about any of _that_ at all.

Because tonight all that ends. They are blowing the cover off of their top secret love affair. And they are doing it in style. 

Jett grins and as he slips into his suit coat, brushing it flat over his hips. "I look damn good," he says with a whistle. 

"Not as good as me," Kendall quips, coming up to stand beside him again, clearly admiring himself in the mirror.

Jett snorts. "Please. We both know who got all the good looks in this relationship."

"Yeah," Kendall says with a grin, "me." And he pops the collar on his shirt like he's a frat boy in some cheap ass polo instead of a grammy winning singer/songwriter in a bespoke suit. 

"You look ridiculous." Jett turns to him and begins to fuss with his collar, using the excuse of smoothing the soft fabric flat to trail his fingers all over Kendall's neck and shoulders. 

Kendall smirks at him. "Yeah, right. Ridiculous. That's why you can't keep your hands off me. Whatever makes you sleep better at night."

"You make me sleep better at night," Jett says a tad bit petulantly because, well, it isn't the best comeback. He expects Kendall to laugh at him, but he doesn't. Instead he sort of smiles and his eyes go all soft. Kendall twists to fully face Jett, his arms wrapping tight around Jett's waist.

"You make me sleep better at night, too," he says, his voice all warm and tender. 

Inside Jett is squealing like teenybopper confronted with her celebrity crush, but his expression reveals nothing. "That's enough shmoop for one day, don't you think?" he says as he disentangles himself from Kendall's embrace.

"Please," Kendall says with a roll of the eyes, "there is no such thing as too much shmoop where you are concerned. You not only saved the napkin I wrote my number on, you had it framed and turned it into a shrine."

"I did no such thing!" Jett retorts hotly. 

Kendall laughs. "Dude, you have it hanging in your workout room with pictures of the two of us and random bits of dried flowers pinned to the wall around it."

"That is an accomplishment wall, not a shrine, you twit! I also have a copy of my first playbill, three movie posters, and a picture of my walk of fame star on that wall!"

"Right. All that, plus a framed dirty napkin with my number and 'call for a good time' scrawled in the corner. And some truly terrible pictures of me-- drunk off my ass, I'd have to be to be kissing your ugly face on camera. Oh, and did I mention the _dried flowers_. Where did they even come from? Off of tables at restaurants? Because I know I never bought you flowers in my life. So, yeah." Kendall makes that face he makes when he thinks he's being super smart about something. The one that is half smug, half constipated. "I like I said, a shrine." 

Jett gives him a sour look, because, yes, he does take the flowers off of their table when they go out to eat. So what if he did? There’s nothing wrong with that. Those flowers were just going to get tossed out at the end of the night anyway. Not that it’s anyone’s business. "Shut up already,” he grumbles, “you're making us late with all your talking."

"I'm making us late?" Kendall elbows Jett playfully. "You're the one who just spent ten minutes caressing my shoulder."

"I was not--" Jett starts, but is cut off by Kendall's mouth brushing gently against his.

The kiss is sweet, a soft press of lips, hardly there at all before Kendall is moving back, his eyes dancing. “Come on, lover boy, let’s get this show on the road. I wouldn’t want to upset the girls by making them wait.”

“Fuck the girls,” Jett growls, his hands fisting in the fabric of Kendall’s suit as he pulls the other man towards him. “Or, better yet, fuck me. You’ll enjoy it more.” And then he’s tugging Kendall’s body closer to his, pressing kisses along the side of Kendall’s neck, rubbing his face against that lovely stubble. 

In the end they are only twenty minutes late, which Jett blames entirely on LA traffic and the newness of their driver. Camille hums something that sounds like agreement under her breath as she browses her menu. Lucy raises her eyebrow and smirks at the lovebite blooming to life on the side of Kendall’s neck. Kendall looks vaguely panicked and orders himself a outrageously named drink, and Jett, Jett lets his expression go all sorts of smug and then contemplates where on the wall tonight’s flowers (orchids and calla lilies that have been dyed electric blue, really this is the most pretentious restaurant ever) would look best.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kendall likes Jett's kisses almost as much as he likes Jett's scowls. They are delicious, both kisses and scowls, brilliant bits of emotion given just to him. He collects them, savoring them in his memory, like other men collect notches on their belts. Thoughts like that, overly romantic ones that ought to make no sense whatsoever, use to scare him. Use to make him run as fast and as far away from Jett as he could (which, for the record, is not very fast and not very far and always ended with him frantically texting Jett a week or so later to make sure things were still kosher between them, because Kendall is a _girl_ ). But they don't any more.

Kendall likes Jett's kisses almost as much as he likes Jett's scowls. They are delicious, both kisses and scowls, brilliant bits of emotion given just to him. He collects them, savoring them in his memory, like other men collect notches on their belts. Thoughts like that, overly romantic ones that ought to make no sense whatsoever, use to scare him. Use to make him run as fast and as far away from Jett as he could (which, for the record, is not very fast and not very far and always ended with him frantically texting Jett a week or so later to make sure things were still kosher between them, because Kendall is a _girl_ ). But they don't any more. 

Kendall has made his peace with the fact that being around Jett turns him into the sappiest sap to ever sap. He's accepted it, because not accepting it means not being around Jett, and Kendall can't not be around Jett anymore. It was killing him, the are-we-dating-are-we-not-dating dance they were doing. Because if they weren't dating, then Jett was free to date someone else. And, well, Kendall was definately _not_ okay with that (as witnessed by their last major fight while they were still in the middle of that shitty dance, the one where Kendall accused Jett of flirting with someone else and then shouted at him when Jett said that he was _not Kendall’s property_ and told Kendall to _fuck off and die_ in that emotionless voice of his he only uses when he's well and truly pissed, the voice that made Kendall's skin crawl because damn it, he wasn't ready for Jett to be done with him yet, the fight that ended with Kendall begging Jett to stay and Jett reluctantly agreeing give him one more chance). So, yeah, Kendall is cool with his sappy ways. But that doesn't mean that he has to let the whole world see them. They are private, meant just for Jett, the overly sentimental thoughts he thinks and the ridiculous over the top gestures he makes.

And that is why he's been so reluctant to take that final step, to make things public. Because once they do that, it won't be just him and Jett in this relationship anymore. It will be him and Jett and all of their fans along with the rest of the world that didn't give a shit about them individually, but will probably have a ton to say about the two of them shacking up. As if who sucked whose dick actually mattered in the life of your average American. 

Kendall's not afraid of a little gossip, no former boy band member can be, but... this thing he has with Jett is _important_. It _matters_. And the thought of having some talking head in Utah flap his yap about it, spread crap all over it, makes Kendall want to punch something. Which is why he's fought so hard to keep things between them private. Because he wants to keep it safe, this thing they have growing between them. Wants to protect it from all the ignorance and ugliness out there in the world.

The only problem is, Jett doesn't see it that way. No matter how Kendall tries to explain things. 

So here they are, getting ready for a date with Lucy and Camille at some trendy ass place that won't have anything worth eating on the menu and will serve drinks with more food coloring than alcohol in them. Yippie to that. 

He fights a sigh as he watches Jett dither between ties, both of which would look amazing on him. Though the green wins in Kendall's book because it's almost the same shade of green as the flecks in Jett's eyes. He makes his preference known as he crosses the room to snuggle up behind Jett, his arms wrapping around the other man's body, pulling them as close together as they can get fully clothed. 

Jett feels amazing, pressed up against him, and so Kendall can't help but nuzzle at his neck. It earns him a scowl and a sharp word from Jett, who is pretending like he's not interested for all he's worth, as if Kendall can't see in the mirror that he's half hard. But, whatever, if Jett doesn't want to play, then Jett doesn't want to play. So Kendall snips right back at him before deciding to show Jett what, exactly, he's turning down. 

Kendall throws himself onto the bed, arching his back as he cups himself. He pants a little, widens his eyes and licks his lips. And, for a moment, he thinks it works. Jett's eyes go half lidded and he sucks on his lower lip, looking for all the world like he wants to toss Kendall's legs over his shoulders and drill him into the mattress. But then he takes a deep breath, shakes his head, and goes back to prattling about "the girls" as if Lucy and Camille aren't having their own personal love-in at the moment themselves. 

But, whatever. It wasn't like Kendall really expected it to be that easy in the first place. Not with all the emphasis Jett has put on this date. And, besides, there is the fact that both of them have informed their PR people to have a statement ready for the news breaks (probably sometime around ten tonight, because there is no way that they are going to go on their first official date and not have a make out session at the end of it, and boys kissing boys is always fuel for the scandal rags fire).

So he pushes off the bed and makes his way back to Jett's side. Jett looks amazing. But then, Jett always looks amazing, and telling him so will only serve to fatten up his head, which so doesn't need to happen. So Kendall pokes at him a bit, mocks him because Jett always needs mocking, and tries his hardest not to babble about how damn much he loves him. 

The Jett goes and ruins everything by bleating about _Kendall_ being shoompy, like Jet isn't the King of Shoomp and, well, Kendall can't let that slide. No way, no how. The man has an honest to god shrine built in his home gym that is adorned with random flowers that he’s stolen from every crappy dinner and cafe they’ve ever been to. Which, really, if Jett thinks Kendall hasn’t noticed that, he’s got another think coming. Jett is the opposite of stealth. The man doesn’t even own a tree hat.

Kendall points this out, the shrine and the lack of stealth that is, while Jett goes red and sputters and the man is just too damn adorable for words. Because, clearly, he did think that he had pulled a fast one with those flowers. And that's precious. So precious that Kendall can't help but kiss him. Soft and tender and sweet, because that's what Jett deserves. 

He pulls back, brushes hair off of Jett's forehead and points out that they really should be going if they want to get there on time. But Jett, well, Jett has other plans. Devious, wonderful, delightful plans. Plans that involve lots of skin on skin and Kendall's legs wrapped tight around Jett's waist and wow. The man is blessed. _Blessed_. Because no one else can give it that good, no one else can make Kendall fall apart that easily. No one but Jett, who does it all while whispering praises, odes in Kendall's honor. Things like "beautiful" and "perfect" and "so damn tight, like you were made just for me." Things that make Kendall's body arch into it, make his hands clench Jett's shoulders, make him whisper frantic prayers of his own in return. Until Kendall falls apart in Jett's arms and damn it. There he goes being a _girl_ again. 

Which, really, isn't too bad if it means getting to press kisses into Jett's skin and see that smile Jett seems to save just for him. 

And, yeah, they are late to the restaurant, but no one cares. Not Jett or Camille or Lucy or even Kendall himself. Because Kendall didn't even want to go on this stupid double date (a _double date_ , for fuck's sake, like they are twelve-years-old and are getting a ride from someone's mom). But then Jett smiles that special smile of his, the one that normally only comes out post-orgasm, and takes Kendall's hand in his with fake confidence, like he's not really sure he has the right, and something in Kendall's chest just swells at the sight. And, really, what can Kendall do but raise their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of Jett's fingers, while Lucy looks smug and Camille coos. 

The picture that makes the cover is taken in that moment: Kendall staring into Jett’s eyes with his mouth brushing Jett’s fingers while, with the other hand, he flips off Lucy and, unknowingly, the camera. 

Kendall, for his part, can't think of a better picture to encapsulate exactly how he feels.


End file.
